was open; but, having heard Herr Kreutzer play, they hoped no
longer--and were generous.

The owner of the beer-garden looked on them in surprise.

"Got it all framed up," he said, "that Dutchy is to have the job, have
you?" He turned, then, to Kreutzer. "That's all right, too, I guess.
Showed you can play real fast and that is somethin' with a crowd, all
right, all right. But don't you know some really _good_ music?"

"Good music!" Kreutzer faltered, at a loss. That which he had played
had been among the best the world has ever known.

"Yes; rag-time stuff, an' such. Real pop'lar."

"No," said Kreutzer, sadly, "I fear I do not know good music of the
kind you name." He made as if to turn away, but then bethought himself
and whirled back hopefully. "But I can learn," he said. "Simple
things, without a doubt, I could play on sight."

"Off the notes, you mean?"

"Yah; so."

"Take this, then." The manager held toward him a thick book of
rag-time melodies.

Kreutzer, too desperate to be disgusted, ran through half-a-dozen of
them rapidly. Now the manager beamed pleasantly.